Berry Picking Read Online Free PDF

back way. She still remembered seeing her first sight of snow at the age of eight, when they had arrived in Ontario, Canada in the middle of winter. He'd been skiing since he was four. His grandmother had a berry patch. Her grandmother lived a life of privilege and wouldn't know what manual labor was. Any chore she needed done, she would give to her housekeeper. Paula inwardly laughed thinking of how she'd guarded herself from telling her aunt and mother where he was taking her.
    “Just to his grandmother's place, she has a berry patch.” she'd told the two women at lunch. Her mother liked to invite her over monthly to have lunch with her at her apartment. Calls from her mother always felt more like summons than invitations. About every two weeks her mother had a new outfit made. She pretended to want her daughter and sister over for their opinions and to eat, but in truth she wanted compliments. Which they always gave. Today the menu included baked plantain, steamed greens and curried goat. Her mother wore an expensive lace gown, which she planned to wear to an upcoming wedding.
    “Why?” her mother asked. Her mother looked just like Paula, except she was taller, and wore glasses. She had striking features but was not as beautiful as her sister Miriam. She still turned heads and always looked as if she were ready for a portrait.
“He wants me to see it.”
    “How much does he make?”
    “Six figures.”
    “Low, middle, or high?”
    Her sister sent her a look. “Does it matter? Six figures is enough.”
    “More is always better than enough.”
    “I don't know,” Paula said.
    “Find out. You should know information like that by now.”
    “What's so special about a bloody berry patch?” Aunt Miriam asked.
    “Watch your language,” her sister said.
    Aunt Miriam only rolled her eyes then looked at her niece. “Tell us the truth.”
    “I am,” Paula said. “We're going berry picking.”
    “What? Is that an American slang for something?”
    “No, we are actually going to pick berries.”
    Her mother scowled. “Doesn't the woman have workers to do that? What's the point of having property if you have to toil the land yourself?” Her mother was averse to manual work of any kind, including preparing a cup of tea.
    Paula smiled. “I think it will be fun.”
    “Be careful,” her mother warned pointing at her. “He may just want to see how hard you'll work. You want a man who will take care of you not vice versa. They can be sly in their ways. “
    “Mother, it is simply a trip to his grandmother's berry patch nothing more.”
    Her mother frowned, but for some reason her aunt began to grin.
    Paula wondered about that smile as Conrad drove up to a lovely colonial house nestled among what looked like woods. The house was impeccably kept, with a lovely garden in the front, displaying a wide variety of blooming flowers and off to the side, Paula caught a glimpse of a neatly tended garden bursting with an array of vegetables. They walked up a paved walkway and then Conrad knocked on the front door. A tall woman, with sharp eagle-like eyes, answered and hugged Conrad then grinned at Paula.
    She extended her hand. “You must be Charlotte.”
    Paula paused. “No.”
    “Juanita?”
    “No.”
    “Giselle?”
    Paula shook her head.
    “Stop teasing her Gran,” Conrad said in good humor. “You know she's the only woman I've ever brought here. Come on.”
    His grandmother giggled like a naughty school girl and then took her hand. “Oh, that was lots of fun. You should have seen your face.”
    “Well, I wouldn't blame him if he’d brought all of his girlfriends here.” Paula said. “This place is beautiful.”
    “Flattery will get you everything. Now let's go pick some berries.” His grandmother moved quickly, with a speed that belied her age of eighty-one. She led them to the back of the house where several large cane blackberry bushes grew. She handed Paula and Conrad a basket each.
    Within seconds Paula